


The Last Saskatchewan Pirates

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-22
Updated: 2004-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:45:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: A Calgary detective and a Mountie from the boreal forests of northern Saskatchewan are chasing a gang of prairie pirates.





	The Last Saskatchewan Pirates

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
The Last Saskatchewan Pirates

## The Last Saskatchewan Pirates

by M-A

Author's website: http://nwp.kixxster.org

Disclaimer: 

Author's Notes: Dedication and disclaimer: This is for Beth, who asked me to write a story in response to one of her challenges. I also have to give credit to the 'Arrogant Worms', Canada's premiere satirists, for their wonderful song 'The Last Saskatchewan Pirate' which inspired--and guided--my story. Salty Bob is theirs. Finally, I have to thank my best friend Sylvie for introducing me to the Arrogant Worms and for looking over this story and for just being there.

Story Notes: You can read a properly formatted copy of this story at http://nwp.kixxster.org/pirates.htm

* * *

The Last Saskatchewan Pirates 

by: Marie-Andre 

There were four people in the canoe. 
    
    
                                                                           It floated low in the water, laden with the weight of too many persons and
                                                                           supplies. The passengers were oblivious to their precarious situation as
                                                                           they eyed their destination: a silo rising starkly from an eerily flat
                                                                           landscape. 
    
                                                                           Later, when the silo was in flames, a year's crop ruined, they flew their
                                                                           standard. The skull looked more like Ralph Klein than it did anything
                                                                           menacing (Wetnose Kowalski had been run out of Alberta and was the
                                                                           only one with artistic talent). 
    
                                                                           But, the message was clear. 'Salty Bob' Fraser, ex-Mountie, and his last
                                                                           Saskatchewan pirates had struck again. 
    
    
    
                                                                           Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, wrinkled his nose, trying to rid it of what he
                                                                           imagined was Calgary's unique scent. Whatever the smell was, it didn't compare to
                                                                           the breezes coming off Lake Athabasca, near his home outside Beaver Lodge,
                                                                           Saskatchewan. It made his head ache. Then again, cities, in general, made his head
                                                                           ache. 
    
                                                                           He gave a final glace at the piece of paper in his hand, matching the number to that
                                                                           fixed to the building in front of him. His long journey was over. He took a deep
                                                                           breath and entered the seventh district's office. 
    
                                                                           Inside, the smell was more of a stench and he gagged. The desk sergeant gave him
                                                                           an appraising look, taking in the uniform. 
    
                                                                           "Better be good," she said. 
    
                                                                           "I'm sorry?" 
    
                                                                           "Calgary ain't under RCMP control yet. The pirates ain't come this way yet." 
    
                                                                           "I'm perfectly aware of that, sergeant. I do need your cooperation in locating one
                                                                           of your detectives. He's associated with this case number." Fraser held out a piece
                                                                           of paper, but the desk sergeant waved it away. "I know who you want. He's in the
                                                                           lunch room. Just look for Smarties." 
    
                                                                           "Um, all right. And the lunchroom would be...?" 
    
                                                                           "That way," the sergeant said vaguely, handing him an authorized visitor's tag. 
    
                                                                           With the assistance of marginally more helpful officers, Fraser found the
                                                                           lunchroom--and a tall, lithe detective with a shock of blond hair kicking a vending
                                                                           machine. 
    
                                                                           "Ahem." 
    
                                                                           The detective either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him. 
    
                                                                           Fraser tried again. "Ahem." 
    
                                                                           The detective finally turned around, his face flushed. "Yeah?" 
    
                                                                           "I'm looking for a detective, erm, Smarties?" 
    
                                                                           The detective flashed a grin as he appraised the man before him. "Now, that's a
                                                                           first. I'm Ray Kowalski. You must be Ben Fraser. I got your message." 
    
                                                                           "Why yes... Kowalski?" 
    
                                                                           "My dad's a pirate, too. What are the odds? C'mon, let's go to interview two, more
                                                                           private there." 
    
                                                                           The door to interview room two closed behind them, Fraser got down to business.
                                                                           "I'm wondering why an Albertan is so interested in the Saskatchewan Pirates." 
    
                                                                           "My Dad's Wetnose Kowalski. THE Wetnose Kowalski who started the Albertan
                                                                           Buccaneers. But roaming down the Athabasca wasn't much fun. It's kind of hard to
                                                                           steal cows. So the Buccaneers and the Pirates struck a deal. It helped that, by that
                                                                           point, there was only one pirate left--your dad." 
    
                                                                           Fraser blushed, as though it embarrassed him to be associated with a pirate. Which
                                                                           it did, but that was neither here nor there. "Ah. And why did your father--" 
    
                                                                           "Become a pirate? Dad had a huge cattle ranch. One cow, hundreds of miles away,
                                                                           got mad cow and that was that. Dad's cattle might as well have been crap."
                                                                           Kowalski shrugged. "What about your dad? What made him flip?" 
    
                                                                           Fraser gave a dry laugh. "My father was a loyal Mountie for thirty years. He
                                                                           tracked Tractor Jack, the founder of the Pirates, for a full year. He tirelessly rode
                                                                           the shoreline of the River Saskatchewan, as he didn't have a boat, and came very
                                                                           near to making an arrest. Just as he was about to break the case, he got laid off,
                                                                           with cause being given as cutbacks. I guess he joined the Pirates out of pure spite.
                                                                           I guess, because my father and I haven't spoken since he joined the pirates." 
    
                                                                           Ray seemed to understand that. "Haven't spoken to my dad in years. He was less
                                                                           than happy that I didn't go to college and become a lawyer or something. Funny.
                                                                           Ida thunk he'd want me to go into cattle ranching with him, but that was my
                                                                           dad--made his living with cows and didn't want me to touch 'em. Worst day of his
                                                                           life was the day I graduated from the Academy." 
    
                                                                           "My father always wanted me to be a Mountie. Best day of his life was when I
                                                                           graduated from the Academy. Ironic how we both wound up in the same place and
                                                                           so did our fathers." 
    
                                                                           "So, how'd you get the case?" Kowalski said quickly as they were moving into
                                                                           sentimentality and there was nothing more unnerving to men than talking about
                                                                           feelings. 
    

"Oh, crap!" 

"What is it now, Damian?" 

"I'm out of duct tape and there's still two holes to patch!" 

"Let me look." 

"How will you looking help things?!" 

"Just let me look!" 

"What's the point?!" 
    
    
                                                                           Bob shoved Damian aside and took a look at the holes. He sighed. "I told
                                                                           you to steal an aluminum boat. But nooooo, you had to find a canvas
                                                                           one. Aluminum wasn't good enough for the buccaneer!" 
    
                                                                           "Aluminum's butt ugly!" 
    
                                                                           "Yeah, and we wouldn't have a hole if we'd gone with that. Now how the
                                                                           hell are we going to get to Moosejaw in a leaky canoe?!" 
    
                                                                           "The same bloody way we got to Regina! Gertie and Sam can bail! 
    

"I didn't," Fraser admitted. My superiors told me to drop it. But it's my father..." 

"Yeah." 

"I could really use your help. I mean, your father's in this, too..." 
    
    
                                                                           "I'm not sure I want to put my old man behind bars, Fraser. For one thing, it would
                                                                           kill my mother!" 
    
                                                                           "I don't want to arrest my father, either, but get him to desist. From what I know,
                                                                           we're the only two people who know the identities of any of the pirates." 
    
                                                                           "You mean, we'd just let them... go?!" 
    
                                                                           "Yeah. At least, that's the plan." 
    
                                                                           "You call that a plan? Let me get this straight: we look for the pirates, we find the
                                                                           pirates, they try to kill us, and then we just let them go?!" 
    
                                                                           "Provided, of course, that they promise to disband their pirate gang," Fraser
                                                                           clarified. 
    
                                                                           "Of course." 
    
                                                                           "Well?" 
    
                                                                           "Well what?" 
    
                                                                           "What do you think, Ray?" 
    
                                                                           "Are you out of your mind???!!!" 
    
    
    
                                                                           The canoe approached Moosejaw under the cloak of darkness. Why it
                                                                           was a 'cloak' of darkness rather than, say, a cape or a shawl escaped
                                                                           Salty Bob, but he didn't have time to ponder semantics as he eyed the
                                                                           bridge just outside the city limits. 
    
                                                                           "Won't be long now," he muttered. 
    
                                                                           "Won't be long till what?" Wetnose didn't seem to be too concerned with
                                                                           getting an answer as he scratched his ass and scouted out promising
                                                                           bushes along the shoreline. 
    
                                                                           "Till dawn! At dawn, the farmers cross the bridge. They'll never know
                                                                           we're here! We'll hit them for all their hay!" 
    
                                                                           "Yeah, and then?" 
    
                                                                           "And then what? We'll have the hay!" 
    
                                                                           "What are we going to do with the hay?" Wetnose wasn't really
                                                                           concerned with the hay, but he was concerned that he might have to do
                                                                           with that if he didn't find a bush soon. 
    
                                                                           "Who cares what we do with the hay! We'll have it! We'll still be the terror
                                                                           of the seas!" 
    
                                                                           Gertie's shrill voice broke through Salty's enthusiasm. He didn't turn
                                                                           around to look at her. Her teeth gave him nightmares. "Well, at least the
                                                                           terror of the River Saskatchewan," she corrected. 
    
                                                                           Some days, Gertie was too pedantic for her own good. This was one of
                                                                           those days. Salty gritted his teeth, ready to throw her into the murky
                                                                           waters. But she was twice as big as he was. The potential payoff wasn't
                                                                           worth the risk. 
    

"I assure you, Ray, I am in full possession of my faculties." 

Ray shook his head. "I just got one more question for you." 

"Fire away." 
    
    
                                                                           "You didn't know that I'm Wetnose's son, and I'm not even involved with the pirate
                                                                           case. Why'd I spark your interest?" 
    
                                                                           "The Vermillion Pass case." 
    
                                                                           "What about it?" 
    
                                                                           "You said one question." 
    
                                                                           "Well, it's two now! What about the Vermillion Pass case?!" The Mountie was
                                                                           starting to really irritate him. 
    
                                                                           "Well, you were the one who solved it. You-" 
    
                                                                           "What caught your attention?!" It was a good thing they were in interview two. If
                                                                           they'd been in one, that shriek would have shattered the mirror. 
    
                                                                           "Now, we're at three... Erm, your tenacity really struck me, detective. As well as
                                                                           your... delicate handling of the gypsies. I felt that you would be of use in another
                                                                           situation featuring... marginal outlaws. Now, I imagine I know why." 
    
                                                                           "If you're saying that I was nice to those freaks because my dad's one, well you're
                                                                           wrong." 
    
                                                                           "Yes, I'm aware of that. So?" 
    
                                                                           "So?" 
    
                                                                           "Are you going to help me?" 
    
                                                                           "Are you out of your mind???!!!" 
    
    
    
                                                                           The element of surprise wasn't nearly as helpful as the cool mist rising
                                                                           from the river, hiding the two pirates as they clung to the side of the
                                                                           bridge. 
    
                                                                           'Blackteeth' and 'Plowman' held their breath as cars rumbled past them
                                                                           overhead. They waited for a signal from Wetnose and Salty. Both
                                                                           thought it was a good thing that the two of them made Wetnose and
                                                                           Salty a band of pirates, instead of two old men needing to get their heads
                                                                           shrunk. Because Blackteeth and Plowman made them a band, they
                                                                           didn't have to worry about Salty and Wetnose making off with the (holey)
                                                                           canoe. Plus, Wetnose and Salty needed them. It wasn't like a bunch of
                                                                           middle-aged freaks could hang on to the side of a bridge for long! 
    
                                                                           At least, that's what Blackteeth and Plowman hoped and prayed for. 
    
                                                                           Finally, the signal came. Salty swore it was the sound of an Arctic tern,
                                                                           but it sounded like a constipated crow to Blackteeth. 
    
    
    
                                                                           Ray stormed out of the interview room with Fraser hot on his heels (hot probably
                                                                           because all the movement generates heat and Ray... Oh, never mind, it's not
                                                                           relevant). He ignored Fraser as the Mountie called out to him. Ignored him as long
                                                                           as he could, then he spun around, grinding to a halt, and causing nearly two
                                                                           hundred pounds of Mountie to slam into him and knock him on his ass. 
    
                                                                           Ray had had better ideas. 
    
                                                                           "What was that all about?!" Fraser exclaimed as he tried to help Ray up. Ray just
                                                                           ignored him and stumbled to his feet on his own, cursing under his breath. 
    
                                                                           Fraser heard something like "Gypsies, Mounties, pirates, why is this happening to
                                                                           me?!" 
    
                                                                           "Because you have a generous heart? Fraser answered helpfully. 
    
                                                                           "Oh, shut up!" 
    
                                                                           "Does that mean you'll help me?" 
    
                                                                           "It means I'll kick you in the head if you don't stop following me! I. Have. Real.
                                                                           Cases." 
    
                                                                           Fraser gave him what his sister Maggie called the "Big-Eyed Mountie Look." He
                                                                           even batted his eyelashes to help things along. 
    
                                                                           Ray just rolled his eyes. "Do I even know you?" 
    
                                                                           "No, but our fathers know each other, which means that we sort of know each
                                                                           other..." 
    
                                                                           "You are unhinged." Ray shook his head. "Come on, let's go to my place and
                                                                           talk." Fraser grabbed his pack from where he'd dropped it at the entrance and did
                                                                           as he was told. 
    
    
    
                                                                           There was no flying of the standard this misty morning. Blackteeth and
                                                                           Plowman were needed to bail as Salty and Wetnose paddled like the
                                                                           devil was after them. Not that they were able to go too fast, not with all
                                                                           the water pouring in. Even the hay they'd snatched and grabbed was
                                                                           doing little to staunch the flow of water 
    
                                                                           Salty Bob cursed under his breath when he heard the roar of a
                                                                           motorboat. He immediately j-stroked, leading the canoe into some very
                                                                           conveniently situated bulrushes. 
    
                                                                           The four pirates said nothing, but glared amply at each other, as first
                                                                           one, then a second, police motorboat roared past their hiding spot. As
                                                                           soon as the coast (coast, get it?) was clear, they heaved a huge sigh of
                                                                           relief. 
    
                                                                           "Let their horses eat straw!" Wetnose Kowalski cheered, rising to punch
                                                                           the air with his fist. 
    
                                                                           The canoe, having had enough, rocked once, then twice, then simply
                                                                           threw its cargo and passengers into the marshy waters. 
    
    
    
                                                                           It turned out that Detective Ray Kowalski drove a strange-looking car. Fraser
                                                                           didn't dare ask what type it was, but he knew it was old. Maybe as old as his
                                                                           father. But it moved a lot more assuredly. So fast, in fact, that he practically had to
                                                                           peel himself from the seat when Kowalski roared to a stop outside a non-descript
                                                                           apartment building. 
    
                                                                           He wordlessly followed Ray into the lobby of the building, up three flights of stairs,
                                                                           and down a long, dark hallway. It was pure torture to stand still quietly, but he did
                                                                           so as Kowalski tried key after key, looking for one that would open his front door. 
    
                                                                           Finally, Fraser couldn't hold it in anymore. "What are all those keys?" 
    
                                                                           "Old apartment, old locker, gym locker, work locker, car, old car, older car... ah
                                                                           ha!" The door swung open and Fraser followed Ray inside. 
    
                                                                           Where he simply had to say it. "Ray, you should try to be a little neater." The
                                                                           place looked like a tornado had hit it, with clothes and the clutter of life spread out
                                                                           over every surface (including the floor) and dust so thick it should have made
                                                                           Fraser sneeze. Well, the dust didn't, but the thought did. He sneezed three times.
                                                                           Ray just gave him a dirty look (pun intended). 
    
                                                                           "Have a seat. Want a beer?" 
    
                                                                           "Erm, no. May I use the facilities?" 
    
                                                                           "Is that Saskatchewanese for 'I gotta use your can'?" 
    
                                                                           "All right, Ray, sure." 
    
                                                                           "Knock yourself out, it's through there." Ray pointed. 
    
                                                                           As Fraser expected, the bathroom was almost alive. 
    
                                                                           When he came out, Ray had to scrape his jaw from the floor before he could speak.
                                                                           That took a moment because he'd spilled some coffee and the floor was impossibly
                                                                           sticky. But, he finally recovered and babbled something that Fraser translated as
                                                                           "What the (expletive deleted) are you wearing Fraser?!" 
    
                                                                           "I'm dressed as a pirate, Ray. I thought I might try to infiltrate them." 
    
                                                                           "Number one, Fraser, you're Salty Bob's son, so infiltration won't work. Number
                                                                           two, you're dressed like something out of 'Pirates of the Caribbean'! Have you
                                                                           actually seen the pirates?" 
    
                                                                           "Well, the truth of the matter is...." 
    
                                                                           "You haven't! They wouldn't be caught dead in swashbuckling clothes!" 
    
                                                                           Fraser made a moue. "See, this is why I need your help!" 
    
                                                                           Ray shook his head. "Go get changed into real clothes. Not Mountie clothes." A
                                                                           thought hit him. "You do have real clothes, don't you?" 
    
                                                                           Fraser gave a long suffering sigh. "Yes." 
    
                                                                           "Good. Go. Get. Changed. I'll make coffee." 
    
    
    
                                                                           Blackteeth and Plowman volunteered to find a new boat. They figured
                                                                           they'd better volunteer before they were ordered to go. Salty Bob and
                                                                           Wetnose were pissed off enough as it was. 
    
                                                                           "Canvas or aluminum?" Blackteeth asked Plowman soon as they were
                                                                           out of earshot. 
    
                                                                           "Who cares, Gertie? Either way, one of 'em will be pissed off. Makes me
                                                                           wonder why the hell I joined this bloody outfit in the first place!" 
    
                                                                           Blackteeth glared at him. "So, you'd want to wind up just another bum
                                                                           on welfare, huh? At least now we're doing something!" 
    
                                                                           "We're stealing hay, for Riel's sake!" 
    
                                                                           "Yeah, so? We're rebelling! Come on, it's a long way to Swift Current,
                                                                           and I don't want to be the one to tell Salty Bob and Wetnose that we'll
                                                                           have to walk. Let's just grab the first canoe we find and move on out."
                                                                           Plowman just kept on glaring. "Come on, Sam, let's sing!" 
    
                                                                           Plowman gave her a shit-eating grin, his mood suddenly improved. He
                                                                           burst into their theme song, written by the great Tractor Jack, who
                                                                           couldn't hack the winters, had gone to New Mexico for a few months,
                                                                           and found the plundering too good to return. 
    
                                                                           Gertie couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but it was okay for this song. 
    
    
    
                                                                           When Fraser came out of the bathroom again, he was dressed in jeans and a plaid
                                                                           shirt. He found Ray sitting on his couch, feet on the coffee table, watching TV. 
    
                                                                           "There's coffee if you want some," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. 
    
                                                                           Fraser helped himself, then came to join Ray. "What-" 
    
                                                                           "Ssh!" 
    
                                                                           Fraser turned his attention to the screen, seeing nothing but what looked like a
                                                                           riot, pure pandemonium. He couldn't believe what was written on the bottom of the
                                                                           screen: Live from Moosejaw. 
    
                                                                           Fraser had lived in Moosejaw. Though too urban for his liking, he'd never seen it
                                                                           that busy. 
    
                                                                           "What?" he tried again. 
    
                                                                           The images changed and Ray clicked off the TV. "The pirates hit Moosejaw a
                                                                           couple hours ago. Made off with as much hay as they could, then they dumped the
                                                                           rest into the river before heading west towards Swift Current and disappearing into
                                                                           thin air." 
    
                                                                           "This is going too far, Ray. We have to stop them." 
    
                                                                           "Why do 'we' have to stop them?" 
    
                                                                           "They're our fathers." 
    
                                                                           "I meant gimme a good reason, Fraser." 
    
                                                                           Fraser took a seat beside Ray, nursing his coffee cup as he gathered his thoughts.
                                                                           Ray gave him his moment. "I don't know your father, Ray. But I know-knew-mine.
                                                                           Mine was a good Mountie for thirty years. He embodied the spirit of the Royal
                                                                           Canadian Mounted Police. He was legendary. He'd track a man over sheer ice for
                                                                           thousands of miles to bring him in just so he could face trial, no matter how petty
                                                                           the crime. My father was a just man who did great things. If it becomes public
                                                                           knowledge that he's become a pirate, the last thirty years will have meant nothing.
                                                                           Dad might think that they do mean nothing because he got laid off, but I don't
                                                                           agree. I don't want people to remember Salty Bob. They need to remember
                                                                           Sergeant Robert Fraser who was never too busy to help. He-" 
    
                                                                           "Okay, okay. I get your point. If we drive like hell, I mean, pedal to the metal,
                                                                           think we could hit Swift Current before they move on?" 
    
                                                                           "Possibly." 
    
                                                                           "Let's go." 
    
    
    
                                                                           Blackteeth and Plowman found a canoe a couple of kilometres down the
                                                                           river. It was a good one, a really good one, made of Kevlar. The pirates
                                                                           were due some luck. 
    
                                                                           Even luckier, the canoe was barely pulled up onto a sandy cove, the
                                                                           paddles inside. The occupants were quite close by, judging by the
                                                                           mating sounds they were making. 
    
                                                                           If they care more about sex than their thousand-dollar canoe, Gertie
                                                                           thought, then they deserve to have us take it. 
    
                                                                           She signaled to Plowman, who was smaller than her, to wait while she
                                                                           got settled in the stern. As soon as he was kneeling in the bow, they
                                                                           pushed off, heading back downriver to pick up Salty Bob and Wetnose.
                                                                           If the old coots had any sense at all, they would have started walking,
                                                                           too. But, apparently, you lost your proverbial sense somewhere around
                                                                           your fiftieth birthday. 
    
    
    
                                                                           Somewhere around Brooks, Ray let Fraser take over the driving. For about an
                                                                           hour. Then he got frustrated with going the speed limit and ordered the Mountie to
                                                                           stop. 
    
                                                                           "At this rate, we'll never get to Swift Current!" 
    
                                                                           "Are you suggesting we break the law?!" 
    
                                                                           "No. Yes. Just a little! No one'll pull you over for doing one 119! 120, maybe, but
                                                                           not 119! Listen, I'm going to crash us if I don't get some shut eye so you either
                                                                           drive faster or risk your neck!" 
    
                                                                           One nineteen turned out to be rather exhilarating, even addictive. 
    
    
    
                                                                           "You did good, gang," Salty Bob said as he eyed the canoe. "Real good.
                                                                           Here, have some hay." 
    
                                                                           "Gee, thanks," Blackteeth and Plowman said in unison as they grabbed
                                                                           the handful of wet hay Salty Bob tossed at them. What the hey (hee hee),
                                                                           they had known going into this gig that they weren't gonna be doing it
                                                                           for money, but this was kind of ludicrous.... 
    
                                                                           "Plenty more where that came from," Salty assured them. Even Wetnose
                                                                           rolled his eyes at that one. "All aboard!!!" 
    
                                                                           This time, they flew their standard. 
    
    
    
                                                                           Swift Current claims to be a town. Perhaps it is, by Canadian standards. When
                                                                           Fraser and Ray roared into it in the early hours of dawn, the town was all a-quiver
                                                                           (whatever that means). Up and down the streets, people were running and yelling.
                                                                           The most popular cry was "The pirates are coming! The pirates are coming!" 
    
                                                                           Fraser would never have admitted it out loud, but he thought it was rather cool how
                                                                           notorious his father had become. 
    
                                                                           Ray pulled the car over and tried to flag down someone for information. But
                                                                           everyone seemed to be running on speed, or something. Finally, he just grabbed an
                                                                           arm at random and pulled. He almost got just an arm, then he got a shiner when the
                                                                           arm's twin made contact with his face. 
    
                                                                           "Let me go!" 
    
                                                                           "Just a minute, lady. Are the pirates here?" 
    
                                                                           "The pirates are coming! The pirates are coming! Their standard was spotted two
                                                                           miles out of town!!!" Ray let the woman go and she sprinted away from him. Not
                                                                           bad, he thought, for a broad who has to be at least ninety years old. 
    
                                                                           He turned to Fraser. "What now?" 
    
                                                                           "We go to the shore. And wait." 
    
                                                                           "That's it? That's your idea of a plan?!" 
    
                                                                           "I don't think meeting them in the water would put us at any advantage." 
    
                                                                           "Hell, no, it wouldn't. I can't swim. You won't catch me in a boat!" 
    
                                                                           "Then, that's our plan." 
    
                                                                           "Do you realise that I've known you less than twenty-four hours and you're
                                                                           already endangering my life in a wildly bizarre way?" 
    
                                                                           "How is engaging our fathers endangering our--excuse me--your life in a wildly
                                                                           bizarre way?" 
    
                                                                           "As you said, you haven't met my father." 
    
    
    
                                                                           The pirates continued to make its way up the river, carrying unwieldy
                                                                           cargo they'd picked up along the way. Wetnose had been tinkering with
                                                                           something ever since they'd stolen a couple of chickens and some
                                                                           supplies sometime after Mortlach. When he grabbed a chicken and
                                                                           stuffed it into his contraption, Salty Bob had had enough. 
    
                                                                           "What the hell is that?!" 
    
                                                                           "It's a chicken canon!" Wetnose burst out gleefully. "Haven't you ever
                                                                           seen Air Farce???!!!" 
    
                                                                           "Yeah, but they don't actually lob chickens!" 
    
                                                                           "Yeah, well, sue me. It's all we have. That, and the element of surprise!
                                                                           Who'd expect to have chickens lobbed at them?" 
    
                                                                           "Good point!" 
    
                                                                           Blackteeth just looked at Plowman who shrugged, as though to say he
                                                                           was just along for the ride. 
    
                                                                           At least, it was an interesting ride. 
    
    
    
                                                                           It wasn't long after Fraser and Ray had set up shop on the bank of the river that
                                                                           the pirates' canoe came into view. 
    
                                                                           Ray snickered. 
    
                                                                           "What's so funny, Ray?" 
    
                                                                           "That's what's terrorizing everyone?!" 
    
                                                                           "It's not the size of the boat that matters, Ray, but the furry of its onslaught! The
                                                                           pirates have done some serious damage to the economy." 
    
                                                                           "I'll try to take 'em seriously, then." A flash of light caught his eye as the canoe
                                                                           came closer, but it was still too far out to make out clearly. "Fraser, what are they
                                                                           doing?!" 
    
                                                                           Ray received only a glare as an answer. 
    
                                                                           "Okay, so I should have brought binoculars." 
    
                                                                           "Especially since I don't have super vision." Fraser squinted, shading his eyes
                                                                           against the glare of the morning sun, and tried to make sense of the tiny figures in
                                                                           the middle of the river. 
    
                                                                           "You didn't tell me to bring binoculars! How was I supposed to know we'd need
                                                                           some?!" 
    

"Salty?" 

"Yeah, Wetnose?" 
    
    
                                                                           "They're looking straight at us--without binocs. They have no clue what
                                                                           we're doing!" 
    
                                                                           "Can you see their faces?" 
    
                                                                           "Nope. Binocs from Giant Tiger are pretty much useless." 
    
                                                                           Salty Bob smirked. He turned to his group of pirates, appraising them.
                                                                           Blackteeth, Gertie and Plowman Sam sat, if not at attention, if not ramrod
                                                                           straight, at least not hung over. Bob nodded at them, then turned back to
                                                                           Wetnose to give the order: 
    
                                                                           "Prepare the Chicken Canon!" 
    

"Fraser?" 

"They're preparing something." 

"I know that, Fraser--even with my eyesight. What are they preparing?" 
    
    
                                                                           Fraser took a moment to turn his head and glare at Ray before returning his
                                                                           attention to the pirates.
    
                                                                           "You don't have to glare at me. Sheesh."
    
                                                                           "Ssh!"
    
                                                                           "It's not like they can hear us!"
    
                                                                           "No, but you're giving me a headache!"
    
                                                                           Ray stuck out his tongue.
    
                                                                           "Now you're being childish." stunned expression on Ray's face 
    
                                                                           "And, no, I don't have eyes in the back of my head. I do, however, know how a six
                                                                           year old child thinks."
    
                                                                           "Hey!!!"
    
                                                                           "Ssh!" 
    
    
    
                                                                           "We'll need to get closer, Salty. Unless we want to drown a bunch of
                                                                           chickens."
    
                                                                           "They'll hang us from our knickers if we do that! Let's get closer!" Salty
                                                                           turned his head to look in an authoritative manner at his two pirates.
                                                                           They were pretending to not have heard. "Well?"
    
                                                                           "Well?" Blackteeth repeated, flashing a mouthful of bad dentition. 
    
                                                                           "We're waiting for you to give the word."
    
                                                                           "I'm giving the word: Hoist your sails!" Then, off Plowman's look, "Er,
                                                                           paddle closer to shore!" 
    

"They're getting closer." 

"I can see that, Fraser. Can you make out what they're doing, yet?" 
    
    
                                                                           Fraser squinted. "They're definitely aiming something at us and getting closer.
                                                                           They--" 
    
                                                                           Something slammed into chest, knocking him down. He lay there gasping for a
                                                                           moment, certain he'd been shot, shocked that his father had shot him, then he
                                                                           heard two things. 
    
                                                                           The first was Ray laughing. 
    
                                                                           The second sounded like a frustrated chicken. 
    
                                                                           Frustrated chicken? What the hell?! 
    
                                                                           Fraser looked down and found that his checkered shirt was covered in white and
                                                                           brown feathers. He probed a bit and discovered that, while his chest felt tender,
                                                                           there was no blood. 
    
                                                                           Ray was obviously laughing too hard to help him up, so Fraser stumbled to his feet
                                                                           on his own. It was when he standing again that Fraser finally saw the cause of
                                                                           Ray's excitement--and his own pain: 
    
                                                                           One chicken. 
    
                                                                           A Hungarian Yellow, if he remembered his chickens right. 
    
                                                                           Great. Now his father was trafficking rare species. And apparently lobbing them at
                                                                           people. What had he gotten himself into? 
    
                                                                           "Ray?" 
    
                                                                           Ray was still laughing. 
    
                                                                           "Ray? Ray? Ray!" 
    
                                                                           Ray finally stopped laughing, but just long enough to take a deep breath before he
                                                                           passed out. "What?" he wheezed. 
    
                                                                           "They--" 
    
                                                                           Another chicken slammed into him. A third narrowly avoided Ray, who threw
                                                                           himself onto the ground, more because he was laughing so hard he couldn't stand
                                                                           than to protect himself. 
    
                                                                           Fraser just lay on his back, convinced that he should just stay there. Besides, the
                                                                           chicken digging its claws into his chest seemed perfectly comfortable. 
    

"We got 'em!" Wetnose crowed. "Did you see 'em fall over? Woohoo!" 
    
    
                                                                           Salty grinned as he peered through the binoculars, trying to make sense
                                                                           of the blurry images on shore. Sure enough, both men were on the
                                                                           ground. "I'll give it to you, Wetnose, that chicken canon is marvelous!
                                                                           Come on, let's paddle to shore and help ourselves while they're
                                                                           helpless!" Salty tried to cackle evilly, but Wetnose, Blackteeth, and
                                                                           Plowman thought he sounded like a fifteen-year-old teenager with a
                                                                           quarterback's hand up her skirt. 
    
    
    
                                                                           The chicken finally decided that it had rested enough and strolled off Fraser's
                                                                           chest. He "oomph!"ed, then struggled back to his feet. Once he was standing, Ray
                                                                           stuck out a hand to be helped up, but Fraser just glared at him. 
    
                                                                           Obviously, this partnership was going to require a bit more than a day and a half of
                                                                           knowing each other. 
    
    
    
                                                                           "They're up!!!" Gertie shrieked. She almost got up herself in all the
                                                                           excitement, but suddenly remembered the last time someone had gotten
                                                                           up and excited in a canoe. She planted herself firmly on her seat and
                                                                           tried not to move. 
    
                                                                           Salty and Wetnose weren't paying much attention to each other. They
                                                                           kept on passing the binocs back and forth, their mouths opening and
                                                                           closing like a bunch of guppies out of water. 
    
                                                                           She couldn't see what they were seeing, which was two guys on shore
                                                                           recovering from being chickened. They were close enough now for her
                                                                           to see that one was blond and skinny and the other was dark haired and
                                                                           built. She guessed that even cheap binocs had to come in handy at
                                                                           some distance. 
    

They know it's us, Ray." 

"You sure?" 
    
    
                                                                           "My father's doing his best imitation of a bass. Your father looks more like a
                                                                           trout."
    
                                                                           Ray grinned weakly. "Why do I feel this isn't going to be the best family reunion of
                                                                           my life, and I've had lots of bad family reunions?"
    
                                                                           "I can't imagine." 
    

"Benton?!" 

"Raymond?!" 

"Wait an instant, you know one of those guys?" 

"You too?" 

"He's my son!" 

"Mine too!" 

"That's not your son, it's my son!" 

"The blond, you idiot! That's my son Raymond!" 

"The other one, that's my son Benton!" 
    
    
                                                                           They dropped the binoculars (right into the lake, with a definitive splash,
                                                                           but they were cheap and the pirates had other things on their minds) and
                                                                           stared at each other. 
    
                                                                           "No!" 
    
                                                                           Blackteeth poked Plowman in the back and whispered "Me thinks their
                                                                           pirate days are over." She hoped she sounded more disappointed to him
                                                                           than she did to herself. 
    
                                                                           "I wouldn't be so sure." 
    

"Would it have killed the town to send us some backup?" 

"I thought we agreed we weren't taking them in." 
    
    
                                                                           "Yes, but that's not the point. The point is, we're cops, the cops should be covering
                                                                           our asses."
    
                                                                           "Ray, I believe the police is cowering."
    
                                                                           "Cowering? From my old man?!"
    
                                                                           Fraser grinned. "Wait till you meet my father."
    
                                                                           "Okay, they're almost here. What's the rest of your plan?"
    
                                                                           "Ray, I'm making this up as I go along."
    
                                                                           "Oh. That's really helpful!"
    
                                                                           "Do you have a better idea?!"
    
                                                                           "No."
    
                                                                           "Well, then, the plan is that we wait for them." 
    
                                                                           Which was a matter of just a few minutes, of course. Just enough time for the
                                                                           pirates to get stuck on a sandbank a couple of feet out and get unstuck and
                                                                           whatnot. So much for a dramatic arrival. 
    

Salty Bob spoke first: "Hello, son." 

"Hello, dad. How are you?" 

"I'm a pirate, son. Other than that did you mean?" 

"No, that's what I meant." 

"Oh, never be ashamed to ask a stupid question. I taught you that, didn't I?" 
    
    
                                                                           Fraser just rolled his eyes at that. He glanced over at Ray who was greeting his
                                                                           father with awkward silence. Better than being treated like an idiot, Fraser
                                                                           thought. "So, dad, how long are you folks going to keep this up?"
    
                                                                           "Keep what up, son?"
    
                                                                           "Dad..."
    
                                                                           "The pirate life suits me, Benton!"
    
                                                                           "The Mountie life suited you, too."
    
                                                                           "Well, that's over!"
    
                                                                           "So it's over and you stop caring?"
    
                                                                           "Who said that I stopped caring? I made sure we lobbed those chickens onto dry
                                                                           land!" 
    
                                                                           "About people, dad! People are scared sick of you."
    
                                                                           Salty Bob almost burst a gut laughing (ew). "It's their choice to be afraid, Benton!
                                                                           Look at us! Do we look particularly threatening?"
    
                                                                           "Well, that chicken canon isn't exactly friendly, dad."
    
                                                                           "That was Wetnose's genius, right, Wetnose?" 
    
                                                                           Wetnose Kowalski seemed happy for the distraction. "That's right!" he exclaimed,
                                                                           not even looking at them. He didn't have a clue as to what he was agreeing with, of
                                                                           course, but it was always best to agree with Salty Bob Fraser. 
    
                                                                           "So, did They send you here to stop me?"
    
                                                                           "No, dad, this is unofficial. But I'm still here to stop you before it's too late and
                                                                           someone else recognizes you!"
    
                                                                           "And so what if someone does? I've found my purpose, Benton!"
    
                                                                           "To steal hay?"
    
                                                                           "Well, there's that. And the freedom, boy, the freedom!"
    
                                                                           "You call being a fugitive freedom?"
    
                                                                           "People respect us, Benton!"
    
                                                                           "No, dad, they fear you. And fears can be overcome. What happens when they
                                                                           stop fearing you? Are you going to start lobbing chickens into water? And what's
                                                                           going to happen after you start killing chickens? Are you going to move up to
                                                                           humans?"
    
                                                                           "Well, um, well..."
    
                                                                           "Well?"
    
                                                                           "Why don't you and the Redneck join us then?" 
    
                                                                           Wetnose Kowalski must have said the same thing to his son at the exact same time
                                                                           because Ray turned the same bright red colour as Fraser before both launched into
                                                                           some rapid gibberish that made no sense to their respective pirate father. 
    
                                                                           Or to Blackteeth and Plowman who didn't have fathers anymore but who
                                                                           understood the need to referee between fathers and children, especially when it
                                                                           wasn't evident who the child was. 
    
                                                                           They both yelled "ENOUGH!!!" 
    
                                                                           Which, of course, in clichd fashion, stopped everyone mid-sentence. 
    
                                                                           "The way I see it," Blackteeth said, flashing her killer smile. "Is that these two
                                                                           know who we are. They're a liability." 
    
                                                                           "Erm, Gertie, we can't exactly kill 'em..." Plowman said. Not that he was one
                                                                           hundred percent sure of that, not being up with the pirates manual. If there was
                                                                           one. Salty Bob claimed there was, but he was prone to... exaggeration. 
    
                                                                           "He's right, Blackteeth!" Wetnose boomed. "Salty, they won't join us and we can't
                                                                           let them go, so..." 
    
                                                                           "Hostages!" Salty Bob cried gleefully!" 
    
                                                                           Ray looked at Fraser, seeing his horrified expression matched, if not doubled.
                                                                           "DAD!" 
    
                                                                           "That's Wetnose Kowalski to you, son!" 
    
                                                                           "Tie 'em up!" Salty ordered Blackteeth and Plowman. They didn't hesitate. 
    
                                                                           Faster than a chicken can fly out of a canon, Fraser and Ray were duct-taped
                                                                           better than one of Red Green's projects. Wetnose slung Ray over his shoulder and
                                                                           Salty did the same with Fraser. 
    
                                                                           The cop and the Mountie were settled in the centre of the canoe, facing each other,
                                                                           with the thwart between them. 
    
                                                                           "Um, I don't think we can fit six people in a canoe..." Fraser said. 
    
                                                                           "We'll see about that!" Salty exclaimed. "Now, no more out of you or I'm going to
                                                                           have to duct tape your mouth shut!"
    
                                                                           Ray whispered, "Your dad's nuts!"
    
                                                                           "And yours isn't?!" 
    
                                                                           Wetnose and Blackteeth crammed themselves into the stern. Salty and Plowman
                                                                           took the bow. It took a while to push off, what with the canoe being so heavy it
                                                                           stuck to the river bottom like dog doo to cheap sneakers. 
    
                                                                           Soon as they were clear away from shore, Fraser knew they were in trouble. 
    
                                                                           "The canoe's sinking."
    
                                                                           "Canoes don't sink, son."
    
                                                                           "Ordinarily, no. But, ordinarily, they're not piloted by four crazy pirates with two
                                                                           hostages."
    
                                                                           "True enough."
    
                                                                           "We're going to drown, dad."
    
                                                                           A look of mild (okay, extreme) panic flashed across Ray's face. "I. Don't. Want.
                                                                           To. Drown." Fraser had to admire his restraint. If he'd been facing his biggest
                                                                           fear--dying in a pit of writhing snakes--he'd have been screaming like the patients
                                                                           of his village 'dentist'.
    
                                                                           "We ain't gonna drown, Raymond, me boy!" Wetnose cried assuredly.
    
                                                                           "Whadya know about drowning, dad? We're landlubbers!!! Now, let me off this
                                                                           boat!!!" Ray struggled against his duct tape until Fraser kicked him. "What?!"
    
                                                                           "Fighting the duct tape will only make it worse. Just relax."
    
                                                                           "Relax?!"
    
                                                                           "Ray, lower your voice."
    
                                                                           "No point, son, we can hear you both loud and clear. Now, sit back and enjoy the
                                                                           ride!" 
    
                                                                           The canoe didn't sink. It continued to ride precariously low in the water, but it
                                                                           didn't sink. Fraser and Ray finally got used to sitting in a puddle of wet (just like
                                                                           being a two-year- old in diapers again) and managed to doze off. 
    
                                                                           When Fraser woke, the moon was out and the night was almost bright as day. His
                                                                           neck hurt. His back hurt. His wrists hurt. He had to urinate. Badly. He even
                                                                           considered just doing it since he was wet already, but he decided to hold off just a
                                                                           bit longer, just in case. That was when he realised three things: number one, he
                                                                           wasn't in the canoe anymore; number two, he wasn't tied up; number three, he was
                                                                           leaning against a tree. 
    
                                                                           He was up and running and behind that big old cottonwood and relieving himself
                                                                           before his brain was fully awake. 
    
                                                                           When he came back around the tree, he found Salty, Wetnose, and Ray all waiting
                                                                           for him, motioning for him to follow, and to be quiet. Blackteeth and Plowman were
                                                                           sound asleep. 
    
                                                                           He followed Ray and their fathers a few hundred metres away from the fire. 
    
                                                                           "Dad?"
    
                                                                           "All a ruse, son. Go!"
    
                                                                           "What the hell is going on, dad?"
    
                                                                           "We need to look tough for Blackteeth and Plowman. Otherwise, we'll lose power.
                                                                           You'd rather have pirates like us roaming around than them, right?"
    
                                                                           "Yeah, dad."
    
                                                                           Salty gave his son a wry grin. "Admit it, it was fun."
    
                                                                           "It was fun, dad." 
    
                                                                           A similar, simultaneous conversation was going on to the right of them between
                                                                           Wetnose and Kowalski. 
    
                                                                           "Take care of your mom for me."
    
                                                                           "Dad, it's not too late to come home."
    
                                                                           "No home left for me, son. Go on. Who knows, maybe we'll get to do this again."
    
                                                                           "Oh, yeah, dad. I can't wait for the next time I get to be crammed with five people
                                                                           into a canoe made for three!"
    
                                                                           "Life's about adventure, son. This is mine."
    
                                                                           "I get it, dad. Take care of yourself." 
    
                                                                           Had this been a clichd story, there would have been much hugging at this point,
                                                                           but this isn't a clichd story so the fathers and sons parted ways without hugs or
                                                                           tears. Fraser and Ray headed back east towards Swift Current. Their dads, well,
                                                                           they were moving on to somewhere else. Places to plunder, people to steal from
                                                                           and all that. 
    
    
    
                                                                           The pirate leaders sat around the campfire as night turned to dawn,
                                                                           waiting for their partners to wake up. 
    
                                                                           "They would have made good pirates, Wetnose."
    
                                                                           "Of course, Salty. They're our sons."
    
                                                                           "Where to next?"
    
                                                                           "How about wherever the current takes us?" 
    
    
    
                                                                           So it is that, somewhere out in the vastness of the western plains, a Calgary
                                                                           detective and a Mountie from the boreal forests of the north are still chasing The
                                                                           Last Saskatchewan Pirates. 
    
                                                                           They'll never catch them, of course. But, sometimes, the chase, complete with
                                                                           hostage-taking and plenty of duct tape, is all the fun. 
    
                                                                           THE END 

* * *

End The Last Saskatchewan Pirates by M-A:

Author and story notes above.


End file.
